


But The Good Die Young

by whatcaniwriteinthis



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: I Feel Really Mean, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Sorry Not Sorry, like really squint, solangelo if you squint, well kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-02-21 22:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2484452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatcaniwriteinthis/pseuds/whatcaniwriteinthis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was 11 years old, hands shaking and face tear streaked as she crossed the border into camp, alone. </p><p>The story of the short, but special, time Abigail Thornbrough shared with Nico di Angelo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But The Good Die Young

     She was 11 years old, hands shaking and face tear streaked as she crossed the border into camp, alone. Her protector, a young satyr, had died on the way. She trembled like a leaf in the rain as she collapsed on the ground.

     Nico had been on patrol that day. He ran up to her, wrapped his arms around her and carried her to the infirmary. He made sure it was Will who checked her over, sat with her through Chiron’s kind explanation and volunteered to give her the tour of the camp. He wasn’t sure why.

     Her name was Abigail Thornbrough and she was a daughter of Apollo. It made sense. She brightened whatever room she was in; she sang with the voice of an angel. She laughed as her arrows hit other people’s targets. She patched the Stoll’s up after their pranks backfired hilariously. She glared down a son of Ares twice her size. She lit up Nico’s whole life.

     When the monsters attacked, she fought hard, slicing her way through the enemy’s ranks like the best of them. She tended to the injured with a seriousness Nico felt no kid should ever need to have. She cried for people she had only known for a few months when their funeral pyres were lit.

     But the good die young and Abigail was no exception. She died protecting the camp she started to call home, as so many demigods had died before her. And when Nico cradled her empty body to his chest, he knew exactly why he broke down as hard as he did. He loved her.

     His hands shook as he lit her funeral pyre; his voice wavered as he chanted in ancient Greek, praying to Hades for her passage to Elysium and his whole body trembled under others’ arms when he collapsed in front of her smoldering ashes.

      _‘Some deaths can’t be prevented.’_ His father had told him in that Portuguese church. _‘Some deaths_ shouldn’t _be prevented.’_ And unfortunately, Nico completely understood. If not now, her death would be later, in a more horrible way. But Nico didn’t want to understand, not in that cold unforgiving way those who spend too much time with death do.

     He screamed; the same horrible way he had when Percy told him that Bianca wasn’t coming back. A fissure erupted in the ground and skeletons crawled out of it, just like they did all those years ago. Only there was no one to fight, no one to be mad at and he was alone, alone, _alone_ all over again.

     Will’s calm voice penetrated the chaos of his mind. No. He wasn't alone. Abby was gone, his mom was gone, _Bianca_ was gone, but he wasn't alone. He still had Hazel and Frank and Reyna and Jason and Annabeth and Piper and Will and Percy and Chiron and his dad and Persephone and so, so, so many more people. He wasn't alone and he might never be again.

     As he hugged his friends (friends, friends, _friends_ , that brave word) Nico felt something spread through his body from the depths of his soul, something he never thought he’d feel again: happiness.

     (When Hades IM-ed him late that night and carefully explained to him that Abigail was Bianca reincarnated, Nico cried hard. He had lost her twice but she had won twice. Nico hoped (selfishly, oh so selfishly) that he wouldn’t have to lose her a third time.)

**Author's Note:**

> If this is how J.K. Rowling felt after she killed off Sirius Black, I'm surprised people write. I feel so mean and heartless and cruel, but I am kinda proud of this. Sorry if my spelling fluctuates between British and American, I get confused.
> 
> Come [tumblr](http://probablypartiallyinsane.tumblr.com) with me over the feels.


End file.
